


All thy sons

by bluebells



Category: Supernatural, Thor (2011)
Genre: Canon Crossover, Conditioning, Dom/sub Undertones, Five Acts, Lucifer's Cage, M/M, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:39:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki falls away from Asgard, he crash lands into Lucifer's cage and meets some of its inhabitants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All thy sons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaos_dreaming](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=chaos_dreaming).



> Written for chaos_dreaming as part of the Five Acts exchange (D/s, conditioning, possessive). Also, first time writing Loki - apologies for any crazy.

Falling in isn't the problem. Climbing out is the challenge.

Their new guest had crashed into the Cage in a shower of glass colder than ice and harder than the steel of an archangel's blade. 

Weeks later, Adam still turns the large shards in his palms, a kaleidoscope of other worlds, of oceans and rainbows among the stars, reflecting on his face from within its depths. 

Loki smiles and watches Adam clutch that chunk of a world beyond their prison to his sternum like a lifeline of hope.

“The worlds still turn, Adam, Johnson. I promise you, by the end, we'll rip them from the stars,” Loki growls, gazing beyond the illusion of this picket-fenced house woven by the archangels. Its walls are cool and blue, white stairs lead to rooms that are forever empty: they are surrounded by materials of paper and wood.

Loki has woven better. Loki could burn it to the ground with the snap of his fingers, but he knows that boy would perish within its walls... and there is something eerily familiar about the hush in the air about Adam.

“There's no leaving the Cage,” the archangel says.

Adam sits up to attention on the couch, features coming alive at the entrance of that angel.

 _Angel_ , Loki wonders. What is an angel? Loki has already witnessed that angels are capable of deceptions, though they hardly rival his own in guile or design. At strength, they are well matched, but it is in flight that Loki thinks even Thor would be surpassed. These angels fly swifter than thought, almost as swiftly as Loki knows to bend light around himself.

There is another angel lost somewhere within these walls: he's reputed to be colder, fouler, and darker than any creature Loki has ever met. Loki looks forward to testing those claims when he meets him one day.

This angel calls himself Michael, and he has that Midgardian boy conditioned to his beckon call like the moon pulls the tide. It's almost flawless and a curious thing to behold.

“You tried everything?” Loki asks, looking between Michael who stands beside Adam.

“I helped build this cage,” Michael says flatly. His heavy, blue stare inspires Loki, and that is rare.

Loki lived his entire life in a cage without knowing he was a prisoner. “Then you will try everything _else_.”

“You're arrogant,” Michael challenges.

“I am sure,” Loki draws the distinction, fingers trailing the seam of a wall and feeling the vibrations of the illusion holding the hollow vacuum at bay. “As sure as I am about that boy. You linger to keep him under your hand, but he won't run.” Loki turns back, ignoring Michael's narrowed suspicion, and meeting Adam's wide-eyed expression with a wry smile. “He's forgotten how. Haven't you?”

It doesn't escape Loki that Adam glances to Michael before answering. Michael nods, curtly.

Adam licks his lips, and his voice is quiet. “This is my home. I like it here. Why would I want to leave?”

Loki wonders how many times Michael had him repeat those words until he was satisfied.

“Why indeed,” Loki murmurs, lowering himself to kneel in front of Adam. “I would run, if I also learned what I was: if my father had lied to me since birth and hidden the secret of my heritage. You said your father was a hunter.”

Adam's eyes widen in fear and he shoots Michael a pleading look. “No, I didn't.”

Loki shakes his head. “You were born to murder, Adam.”

Michael's hand closes around Loki's shoulder, grip digging through the leathers with sharp pincers of sensation that would bruise on any lesser being. Michael's expression is dangerous. “You won't speak to him again.”

Loki grins. “I will.”

In a moment, the far wall slams up behind Loki. The illusion crumbles obediently with plaster on his shoulders, in his hair, and it tastes like bones at the corner of his mouth. Loki lands on his feet, chuckling. 

“Is that everything, angel? No wonder your father left you.”

Loki and Michael collide in an explosion of sound, the ground and ceiling buckles in the bubble of a crater, plaster and splinters flying around the whirlwind battle of emerald and ethereal light.

On the couch, Loki watches the illusion of himself occupy Michael. That angel was pure stupid when it concerned Adam. Loki nudges the boy beside him and smiles encouragingly in response to Adam's wary look.

“Tell me more about your brothers,” Loki says.


End file.
